<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>In Darkness, There Is Always Light by Damevanessa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219548">In Darkness, There Is Always Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damevanessa/pseuds/Damevanessa'>Damevanessa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beowulf (Poem)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:01:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damevanessa/pseuds/Damevanessa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based off Beowulf, this is the story of an FBI agent and a string of murders.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Darkness, There Is Always Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elijah Saxe practically flew out of the stark, grey office, having finally turned in an insufferable report. In his third year at the FBI, Saxe could agree that reports was the worst part of the job. He had finished a cold case from the seventies, one that the FBI had been working on for decades. The families of the victims finally had closure. Since his entry into the FBI, the case closer had shut more impenetrable cases than anyone else. He was proud of his work, that he had helped people, but he also enjoyed the admiration and respect that came with his success. <br/>	He paraded into the cafeteria, smiling and saying hello to everyone that passed by. After waiting in a long line, he paid for his lunch, and sat down among a long table of similar looking men in dark suits. Glancing up at one of the numerous TVs spotting the room, he noticed the news was on.<br/>	“Hey, how many people in Mansfield have gone missing? I feel like it’s been a lot recently.” Saxe glanced at the friends surrounding him, who went quiet and shrugged. <br/>	“Thirty,” one friend sighed. “They’re struggling, and everyone that’s gone to help, even one of ours, has gone missing.”<br/>	At that, the others nodded in agreement but turned away, although the conversations afterward were quieter.<br/>------------------------------<br/>	That following Sunday Saxe was making his early morning coffee at 11, when he turned on CNN, and noticed the Mansfield case had returned. Another person was missing. <br/>“That’s it!” Saxe slammed the remote on the kitchen counter. He stormed into his bedroom, shoving random clothes into a bag that then he tossed into his sports car. He slammed the door and sped off, leaving his phone in the kitchen. <br/>________________________<br/>After arriving in Mansfield, Missouri, Saxe went straight to the mayor, explaining who he was and his need to help. The mayor, a very tired man, had a defeated air about him.<br/>	“Look, I know you want to help, but at this point the most anyone can do is just leave the area. It’s just best to run before you’re next. If I wasn’t mayor, I would be out of here too.”<br/>	“Well I’ve done well on a lot of other cases, and I think I could help you out.”<br/>	“I can give you a list of the people who’ve gone missing, but I’m still gonna insist you don’t go.”<br/>Although the town was small, it was condensed, and to hide the sheer number of missing people, the kidnapper would have to be holding them somewhere remote. This narrowed down the possible places to the abandoned fishermen’s warehouses, or the nearby forest. <br/>Saxe got in his car, and drove to the warehouses, hyper-aware of his surroundings and any people. After arriving at the warehouses, Saxe grabbed a flashlight, as dusk was starting to set in, and the shadows of the warehouses were looming over empty dirt road. <br/>The warehouses had ivy growing up the walls, graffiti on the inside and the outside, many broken windows and doors, and all of the buildings came with the faint smell of the weed many visitors had smoked, except for one. On a smaller building, the graffitti read “Keep out” and “No trespassers,” rather than the initials and signatures found on the other buildings.<br/>The door creaked as light filtered into the black room. The putrid smell was so immense Saxe gagged. Holding his shirt over his nose, he slid inside, the door wavering behind him. He fumbled with his flashlight, almost dropping it before it flickered on. The grotesque masterpiece of corpses, both dead and alive, spread across the warehouse floor. The floor was damp with bodily fluids of all kinds, and it was impossible to distinguish which appendage belonged to which torso or head. A whimper sounded from the corner. Saxe turned towards the sound. There, still alive, was a young girl, her dress torn to pieces, and her hair matted with blood. Saxe hurried over, kneeling in a puddle of some thick, heavy liquid. Her arm had been sawed off, but it had been cauterized, the stump on her shoulder healed, and no longer bleeding. <br/>	“Did he take you too?” Her voice was fearful, yet resigned. <br/>	“No, I’m here to get you out of here,” Saxe replied, trying to keep his voice low and calm. He reached for his phone to call an ambulance, but finding his pocket empty, he remembered leaving it on the kitchen counter, and realized he must have left it there.<br/>	“That’s what they said too.” She nodded to her right, “but he turned out just like the rest of us.”<br/>	Saxe glanced over and saw a group of men. They had been beaten to death but were not as mangled as the others. However, given the lack of movement and color of their skin, it was also too late for them.<br/>	Behind him, a floorboard creaked. Saxe whirled around, his flashlight whipping towards the noise. There stood a man. In his plaid pajama bottoms and loose t-shirt, he was relaxed in the gruesome atmosphere. He smiled, and there was a maniacal glint in his eye. As he sauntered forward, Saxe reached for his gun, only to realise he had forgotten it in the car. The man pulled out brass knuckles, which he stuck onto his hand like talons. He gained ground, and swung out, but Saxe ducked just in time, reaching up to grab his arm and yanked. The man went flying over his shoulder, hitting something soft. The man-shaped beast stood, but he was no longer smiling. This time, he ran, shoving Saxe up against the wall, clenching his fist so that his knuckles are white, he made to punch Saxe, but Saxe grabbed the psycho's wrist and pushed back. Time froze, the only thing the men were aware of was each other. Eventually, after seconds, minutes, hours, the man’s hand, slick with the fluids of his victims, lost its grip on Saxe, and started to fall away. Before he knew what he was doing, Saxe grabbed a sharp plank off the floor, and hit it straight into his opponent. The man staggered back, the wood falling out of his stomach. He collapsed, onto the ground. Saxe hurried over, unsure if he should help the injured. He had short, raspy breaths and his chest was a dark maroon patch that was steadily growing. He smirked at Saxe, before closing his eyes, and the breathing stopped.<br/>	The wailing of sirens was heard, and Saxe turned toward the door. The police entered flashing guns. They went to arrest Saxe, unsure of what to make of the scene, and his bloody and disheveled clothes, but then the mayor entered.<br/>	“Hold up!” He shouted, “I know this man, he arrived in town yesterday. And by the look of him, he killed the killer!”<br/>	After a conversation with the mayor, Saxe discovered a jogger had heard the commotion of the fight, and had called the police. Because of the recent disappearances, the dispatch had sent out almost the entire force to investigate the commotion. <br/>	“That’s probably for the best,” Saxe muttered, looking around at the countless bodies and body parts the police would have to identify and piece together. <br/>Saxe pointed out the killer to the police, who glared at the body. Using the mayor’s phone, he called in to the office, planning on calling in the deaths of the federal agents.<br/>“Hey, Dan, this is Elijah. I caught the Mansfield killer that’s been on the news. There’s a group of our agents here.”<br/>“You caught that killer? Congrats. Guess we’re going to have to give you a raise,” Dan, the head of the FBI’s unit of Criminal Investigations, gushed. “I’ll send some people over collect ours and help with the rest of the crime scene. You go home, don’t worry about it.”<br/>	After hanging up the phone, Saxe left the crime scene for the police to deal with, had a shower and change of clothes, and then made his way to the mayor’s office. Standing on the podium, he looked out at the crowd of cheering survivors. The small-town king proudly presented Saxe with a community service award, apologizing that the award was all the small town had. They had fortunately never had a need for other awards He gave several interviews with CNN, MSNBC, and various other news sources. After a long drive back, he returned home late, and as he went to turn the lights on, he noticed a female shaped figure, standing in the window, looking straight at him, red glinting in her eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>